


the colors of all your moods

by reconditarmonia



Category: The Strange Case of Starship Iris (Podcast)
Genre: (Or), Ambiguously Requited Attraction, F/F, Nonnies Made Me Do It, Rule 63, Sana is very sexy, Soulbonds, sexual fantasies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 10:41:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28544205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reconditarmonia/pseuds/reconditarmonia
Summary: Park has it bad.(what is it? unclear)
Relationships: Jin-Seon Park/Sana Tripathi
Comments: 6
Kudos: 9





	the colors of all your moods

**Author's Note:**

> posting this before it gets jossed, baby! Thanks to FFA for "100 words of being horny and mistaking it for a soulbond."

Park keeps careful tabs on all of the _Rumor_ crewmembers, of course. It's her job, and she's very thorough. She knows what they eat for breakfast, how long it takes them to take a shit, and far too much about what Sources B and D do in bed.

But she doesn't actually know what any of them, bar Source Zero, looks like. Source D's file has a handful of official photos of the same Dwarnian but no one on her team can definitely say whether or not it's them, and there are some decade-old photos of Source C half-obscured or in a crowd.

It turns out that Source C — Sana Tripathi, she'll have to start thinking — is about her height, with silvering hair at her temples and dark eyes, and hands still raw and fuel-stained from rigging the explosion over the lab. In the chaos of the next few days, Park's weirdly aware of her — McCabe or Source B (Jeeter) will ask if she's seen the captain, and Park will be able to tell them that she's with Source D (Krejjh; the photos were wrong, it turns out) in the cockpit, realizing as she says it that she can almost feel Tripathi's hands taking over the controls. Or she'll be lying in her bunk, staring at the ceiling, and get a flash of Tripathi working in the engine room, hair tied out of her face and sweat on her brow. Could something have happened with the nanoswarm?

She didn't have any data before on how Source C touched herself, and hasn't really given it any thought until another image flashes onto her mind, another night when she's trying to fall asleep: Tripathi on her own bunk, trousers kicked down around her ankles, one of those hands moving slickly between her legs and the other up under her shirt. Quiet, enough that they wouldn't have picked it up before, especially with music on. Park can feel her face turning red, and it's not like she can close her eye or cover her ears, as though Tripathi were a couple of overly loud or exhibitionist neighbors in her apartment block. Someone — Jeeter? — would probably be interested in knowing that the swarm could make this happen, but she doesn't know how much she could safely explain.

Park keeps her eye closed, but she's eight-cups-of-coffee levels of jittery. The image doesn't go away, and then superimposed on it, blinking in like a hologram — _are these her thoughts?_ — is the image of Tripathi's hand clenched in short dark hair. With a jolt, Park realizes it’s _her_ hair, as she licks her, as thorough and diligent in this as in anything else she does.


End file.
